


i got laughed at for the other fucking title goddammit

by r1ker



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8445430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: i'm nastyHAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANNON THIS FOR YOU BOO





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm nasty
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANNON THIS FOR YOU BOO

After dinner there's no sense in either of them getting back out into the darkening night of Gotham. Oswald lets a record spin low and quiet in the adjoining room as he observes Ed over their vacated saucers. Their glances are a bit one-sided, seeing as how Ed's abandoned his glasses in favor of looking at Oswald with red-rimmed, exhausted, but still enamored eyes.

 

"We kind of did this backwards," he says along with a head tilt. "Or rather out of order. Pining, dinner, frottage, and then the afterglow. Don't know what way you're supposed to go about it but I'm sure it's not that." Oswald's eyes crinkle at the corners on reflex. There hasn't been a thing in his life he's done properly at all, but in the end, it's worked out for him in the best sort of way. And maybe this'll be the same, too. He's standing behind Ed now, hands on his bare shoulders, looking past the top of his head at nothing at all.

 

"We're not the kind to do things how we're supposed to, aren't we?"

 

"Not at all." Ed's hands go to his shoulders, rest on top of Oswald's. It's the closest to giddy Oswald's ever felt, to have someone returning his affections, willingly and with the hope of more to come. So he tests the waters further, tilts his head up to Ed's, looking at him past a glint of moonlight from the near window.

 

At that Ed bends gracefully at his middle, kisses just as well upside down than he did right side up. Sure, it's not as graceful as others would want their affection to be – it won't be the climax of a hit romantic movie – but it is more than Oswald ever thought he'd deserve, he'd get, he'd see in this lifetime. Ed's hands curl around his ears, thumb at the hair that wisps around their backs, and the chair holding Oswald up might as well not be there for how airless he feels.

 

What comes of that is almost autopilot for them both. They break apart long enough to let Oswald rise from the chair, Ed ushering him down the long hallway with one hand lightly on the small of his back. The door to Oswald's room has fortunately been pushed to, easy enough to get it open with Ed's big toe, and both reconvene with their legs at Oswald's bed. Oswald lets himself get pushed down back-first onto the comforter, the knots of woven material pressing against him as he's soon covered by Ed.

 

A hand urges Oswald's bare leg to bend up at the side, to give Ed the room he needs to nestle in the cradle of his lap, so he does, a bit more willingly than the average person. His toes curl into the bed sheets when Ed runs his fingernails down that same leg, just lightly, enough to test the waters of where Oswald stands on things being a little rougher. The resounding shudder he releases into Ed's mouth answers that last inquiry with a unanimous yes. He's breathing heavily, belly pressing against Ed's with every inhale and exhale, like his feet are pounding the asphalt in a marathon, not twisting with Ed's helplessly as they rearrange their bodies atop the bed.

 

All the while Oswald has yet to feel the urge to come up for breath. Recalling that brief respite he spent in the bowels of a Gotham river devoid of oxygen, where he'd have given anything to rid his body of the burn the lack of air fueled, he cannot find that same feeling now. He pulls apart from Ed just enough, just far enough and long enough, to gather some bit of potable breath. It's not nearly what he needs but it's just right to get by on. Just to save his lungs the strain he pulls away from Ed to say his piece, to offer a direction that this night could complete its journey on.

 

"If you still have it in you," he says quietly, out of air in his lungs to properly form the words. With his inquisitive statement the spark behind Ed's eyes curries more flame, turns into another kiss for Oswald and now two insistent hands on his hips. All of these things together, now Ed's mouth on his neck and the slope of his bony shoulder, culminate to make Oswald feel as if he's going to self-destruct at any second. From time to time he slides against the mattress with both his and Ed's efforts, the latter a little too focused on the task at hand to be precise.

 

There's lube in the side table inches away from the bed and Oswald knows its location, its contents well enough to reach into its top drawer without even turning his head. He's taken back to a time when Butch was really the only comfort he had – not even the thought of those few times, his knees against his chest, hoping for all the world it was someone other than his bodyguard fucking him so hard he couldn't walk the next day – but shakes it off quickly.

 

Ed seems to know enough not to necessitate any further instruction. Oswald reorients himself to the burn, the stretch, of slick fingers opening him up, cherishes the spark that ferries itself up the rungs of his spine when Ed brushes past his prostate. The first two were plenty to at least get him in some state to take the cock brushing against his knee, but Ed's got being wholly prepared in his sights, and doesn't stop until he's absolutely sure it's going to be worth it for them both.

 

When Ed's cock nudges at his hold Oswald taps on his shoulder with a gentle hand, like he's getting his attention out in town and not in the sheets. Ed flicks to him without pause for whatever it is he's got to say, a complaint or a remark in edgewise. But Oswald says nothing. He grabs ahold of whichever one of Ed's hands won't lose him his balance above Oswald on the bed, and presses the heel of it into his throat. Not nearly hard enough at first – he can feel, sense some resistance on Ed's end, apprehension that will hopefully be eased when they get into this and know it only heightens that pleasure way past where it would normally be.

 

"You're not going to hurt me." Oswald's voice chokes out past the tightening hand when Ed begins to thrust shallowly, matching both motions in voracity. Soon Oswald begins to climb a hill of euphoria, each drive of Ed's hips into him and dwindling supply of oxygen pushing him to a previously unachievable peak.

 

His glassy glance tilts to the side of the room, the cobwebs gathering in the corners. His hearing is muffled for the absence of breathing, save the pounding of his blood in his ears. Ed isn't paying attention to the carnal reaction Oswald's having to this, focuses on fucking in and out as best as he can without losing himself entirely. Past the rush in his veins Oswald begins to hear Ed's helpless little sounds of pleasure, low in his chest when compared in pitch to his speaking voice. That voice, it's saying something too, something vulgar Oswald quite can't make out as well as the tone.

 

Oswald's been close to coming since the second he laid down on the bed so it's no surprise at all when he's the first one to go with a strangled moan, the noise that causes the hand to lift from his throat at once. Suddenly the air comes rushing back into him in a gust, filling his chest with what it needed and his brain with blood. His back arches with the force of his orgasm, spurring Ed to come closer to him in an effort to keep them as near as possible to one another. Oswald gets it together, puts his arms around Ed, rocks with him for the last few times on the bed before Ed too finds his release, sighs heavily like a man overworked into Oswald's hair.

 

Fingers skitter down Ed's sweaty back, feel the quiver of his spine as he pulls out. Oswald feels the very same way at his core, trembling though it's now been long since he came, unable to make it stop though chemically he's reached his end for this night. Soon Ed yawns hard, falls over to Oswald's other side, not missing a beat and sidling close to him, both atop and beneath the sheets and comforter. He lets Oswald run mindless fingers through his hair, the press of his fingertips to Ed's scalp the final push he needed to lull himself to sleep, and not long after that Oswald's in the same situation, the last thing he feels before he passes out the weight of Ed's skinny arm looping around his waist.


End file.
